Chapter Four

Olivia Jameson stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her bathrobe open, gazing at her chest and stomach. She ran her slim hand over her scars, trying not to flinch. She hated touching them, but her therapist Francine was encouraging her to do so. It was supposed to be healing and empowering – assuming that Olivia could start to accept them.

Not yet. Not yet, I can’t. Living with them and tolerating them… that’s not accepting them.

It was funny, how she didn’t mind much when Dallas touched the angry red lines, but she dreaded touching them herself. Olivia knew that when he looked at her, all he saw was a strong, smart, beautiful woman, ugly scars and all. Since the attack, Dallas had kissed and run his tongue over every inch of her flesh, and she’d loved every second of him doing it.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop being grateful and disbelieving that he can still see beyond this scar tissue. He loves me, I know that.

She heard a noise behind her, and she looked in the mirror to meet Dallas’ blue eyes. He was in the doorway, watching her steadily. He knew how much she hated doing this before her shower every morning and he always stayed close by, just in case it got to be too much. In case she needed him.

“How you doing, darlin’?” he said.

Olivia took a shuddering breath. “OK, today.”

Dallas nodded, didn’t move any closer. He watched her intently, looking out for any sign that she was back in that conference room, down on the floor and being cut up by her stalker. He knew her so well now; he could read her every thought and feeling in those gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes. Sometimes he knew what was happening inside of her even before she’d given the emotion a name.

“Is it getting better?” His rough voice was as soft as it ever got. “Touching them?”

“No.” She tried to smile. “I’m still doing it, though.”

“Do you need me?”

His words brought tears to her eyes. “Always, Dallas. I always need you.”

He pushed himself off the doorframe and came over to her, took her in his huge arms, stroked her long red hair. She leaned into him, pressed herself against his muscled chest. It still astounded her how safe she felt right there. How completely he protected her, loved her.

She tipped her head back now, gazed up into his face. The man was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous, with that cropped dark hair and those blazing hard eyes and full lips. Throw in his incredible physique, razor-sharp brain and wicked sense of humor, and he was nothing short of sex on legs.

Dallas saw her desire flare, and it sparked his own. Slowly, he lowered his head, watching her face to make sure she was totally OK with this. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. He took her mouth gently, sensing that she was still troubled.

Olivia pulled back a bit. “I love you.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face with both large hands. “And I love you, baby.”

She nodded, silent.

“What’s going on, Olivia?”

“I – I’m afraid it’s not going to get any easier.”

Dallas stared down at his fiancée, his heart physically hurting for her. He thought that she was the most breathtakingly gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and truth be told, he didn’t even see the large scar across her perfect cheekbone anymore. But Olivia saw it; she saw them all.

She just can’t look past them yet. She looks in the mirror, her eyes go to the red and purple lines right away. She sees the scars first, her face and body under them second and third. God, what I wouldn’t give for her to see herself the way that I do…

“You want me to help?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “How?”

He turned her back to face the mirror and stood behind her. He took her hand in his, and skimmed their joined hands over the scar on her cheek. His hand was on top of hers, and her fingers stroked her own skin.

“Feel that?” he said. “How soft and silky it is?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Now Dallas pulled her hand down, over her chin, down her throat. Her fingertips grazed the surface of her skin, barely touching it. He stopped just above her left breast, and carefully guided her fingers over the scar there. She shuddered.

“It’s OK, Olivia. I’m right here.” He drew her fingers over the scar again, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “You want to stop?”

She shook her head.